


Wrong

by Moontune



Series: Bendy and the Prompt Machine [3]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Gen, One Shot, Reader is a Failed Bendy, prompt, reader is gender-neutral, request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-19 23:51:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16544711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moontune/pseuds/Moontune
Summary: When you emerged from the ink, you knew who you were supposed to be and what you were supposed to look like. Unfortunately, like many others, you turned out wrong.





	Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> This work is a mixture of both "You're a disappointment" and "I don't deserve to be loved" prompts

When you first emerged from the dark puddles, you felt nothing. You clawed your way out of the ink, snarling and howling like a mad wolf.

 

But you weren’t a wolf – you weren’t supposed to be a Boris.

 

No, you were Bendy. At least, you knew that was what you were supposed to be. It’s the only thing you knew.

 

But you hardly looked the part. You were too disfigured, too melty, too off-model. Your gloved hands had five fingers instead of the cartoony four-fingered hands that Bendy normally had. Your bow tie hung loosely on your collarbone, you constantly dripped ink, and your tail was far too long. Hell, just the fact that you had a tail was proof enough that you weren’t perfect. Bendy didn’t have a tail in his final drafts.

 

When you finally managed to see yourself in a reflection from an ink puddle, you found that your face was too narrow, and your horns were uneven. The only thing that was close to on-model was your facial features – pie-cut eyes accompanied by a wide toothy grin.

 

That grin immediately fell into a frown when the pain finally set in. You weren’t right, nothing was right, you felt _wrong_.

 

It took a while to find your voice, but when you did, you could do nothing but scream in agony. This was wrong, you felt wrong, everything was wrong…

 

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

 

“Well, that didn’t go quite as planned…” A familiar voice spoke up from nearby, causing you to fall silent and snap your head around to look at the source. There, standing in the corner, a man watched you with a darkened gaze. “Back to the drawing board, I suppose.”

 

“What happened to me?!” You screeched, gripping the sides of your head and digging your fingers into the ink that composed your horns, “What am I?!”

 

The man stepped forward, sneering down at you in disgust.

 

“You’re a disappointment.”

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

It’s been a long time since that fateful day. Ever since, you simply wandered the halls of the studio aimlessly. You weren’t sure how much time had passed; it could’ve been years for all you knew.

 

All you knew was that you were a failure, a disappointment.

 

You weren’t Bendy, but you didn’t know what your real name was. So when the others called you Bendy, you answered regardless if that was who you were.

 

Of course, there weren’t many who would speak with you. There was the occasional Lost One who would (strangely enough) find comfort in your presence. Sometimes you’d encounter a Boris, but every Boris you found would remain silent, as a Boris should.

 

Then there was Alice. When you first found her, she was busy dissecting a Boris in the Animation Department. You stayed far away from her after that, and haven’t dared journey to her domain in Level 9, lest she do the same to you.

 

There were many beings you encountered during your time exploring the depths of the studio. There was the Projectionist, with his ever-watchful eye. The Butcher Gang, Barley, Charlie, and Edgar – though they were much more deformed than you. There was also the living theme park ride, the Searchers, the Swollen Ones, the Ink Demon…

 

They were all rather odd, and most were hostile. You quickly learned that many beings down here would, more often than not, attack unprovoked. So you kept your distance.

 

For the most part, at least.

 

Normally, when you heard footsteps approach, you would run and hide. Footsteps normally meant the Butcher Gang, Alice, or The Projectionist, depending on how heavy they sounded or what noises accompanied the sound of footsteps.

 

But the ones you heard here, in the Music Department, were different. There was no inhuman gurgling, no humming, and no clanging of cables with every step on the wooden floors.

 

Curiosity got the better of you, so you remained unhidden – though you were well prepared to flee if need be.

 

When the stranger came into view, your pie-cut eyes widened when you met another set of nearly-identical pie-cut eyes.

 

For a brief moment, you thought that you had found another Bendy. But upon closer inspection, the face was just a mask. This stranger didn’t resemble any toon, to your knowledge – he wore nothing but ink-stained pants held up with suspenders, along with a pair of clunky black boots, almost similar to your own.

 

“My Lord?” The stranger said, his voice low and smooth.

 

Now, you may not have known who you used to be before you were Bendy, but you knew for a fact that you had never been anyone’s “lord.” Honestly, you weren’t sure how to respond to something like that; as such, you remained silent, and ready to run if this weirdo tried anything.

 

The strange inky man dropped to his knees in front of you, his arms outstretched as though he were expecting you to come forward.

 

“My lord!” He spoke again, his voice taking on a more excited yet desperate tone, “You’ve finally arrived; you’ve finally answered my calls!”

 

“Uh…” You stared at this man as a feeling of unease rose inside your gut. No, this was wrong. You weren’t a lord, you never were. You were a mistake, a failure – even your own creator saw you as nothing more than a disappointment.

 

“Please, my Lord… please, set me free! I have done nothing but serve you for so long, I’ve given you everything!”

 

He shuffled closer as his arms lowered to his sides. His masked gaze remained on you, waiting for an answer.

 

“Everything…” You muttered, slowly processing his words, “You’ve… given everything…?”

 

“Yes, yes…” His hands moved up to his chest as he lowered himself to sit himself on his legs, “I’ve been nothing but loyal to you, my saviour. I’ve waited for you for so long… my love is reserved only for you.”

 

You ink-covered heart stopped at those words. No, no… you were not a creature to be loved. You’re not his lord and saviour. You’re a failure, a mistake, a disappointment, a defect…

 

You were _wrong._

 

“No!” You shouted, shaking your head and stumbling back, “No, I… I don’t deserve to be loved!”

 

“My Lord-“

 

“Don’t call me that!” You lashed your tail, interrupting the inky man before he could say anything else, “I'm not a lord or saviour or anything! Can’t you see what I am?! I'm a monster!”

 

Ink began to drizzle off your deformed body; even more so than usual as you lashed out at this masked stranger. Before you knew it, inky black tears began falling from your pie-cut eyes.

 

“I'm…” Your voice trembled as you hugged your melting form, a feeble attempt at comforting yourself. “I'm not who you think I am. I'm not what I'm supposed to be…”

 

Silence hung in the air like a thick blanket as the stranger stared at you with his masked gaze. His hands lowered from his chest to rest on his lap, before he stood back up to his feet.

 

“You’re… not him…?” He muttered, processing your words.

 

But before he could say or do anything else, you turned tail and ran away, leaving behind a trail of ink.

 

_You were wrong._


End file.
